The Dark Hour
by lotus-brody
Summary: People are going missing in the University, only to turn up later on night classes, completely changed. Worried his friend might be in danger, Charley and Peter get involved, but things are going to get a lot worse. Peter/Charley, slash fiction.
1. Prologue

A/N: OK, I'm sorry. If anyone's confused, allow me to explain. I was at work and this scenario hit my brain. I realized that it was a great start to the story, and had to have it in there. So anyone who has read my story and is now confused as to why the first chapter reads as second and so on, I decided to mix things up a little bit. I apologize very much! The second chapter won't be long in posting either. Just consider this like a prologue.

So, again, just to say, this is a sequel to 'Cornered.' It is not necessary to read it first, but the other story does explain how the two of them got together. Also, if you like it, please review! The plot bunnies are gnawing the bars of their cages, and their favourite food is reviews! Kisses to those that already have! :) xxxxx

Again, I'm very sorry for the confusion, hope you guys don't mind!

Pairing: Peter/Charley. Slash, established relationship. Contains smut. If this sort of thing offends you, off you go.

Disc: Own nothing!

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Eve Miller glanced at her watch. _When had it gotten so late?_ It was almost eight. She sighed, leaned back, and stretched. Her back cracked in several places as her chair tilted. She stood up, amazed that no one had come along to kick her out of the library yet. Standing, she started to slip her textbooks into her bag. That was enough for one day. If she had to look at one more sample of algae her eyes were going to fall out.

Outside the night was a bit chill. She was born and raised in Nevada, so the fifty degree temperature was cold for her. She wrapped her jacket a bit tighter about her as she walked down the steps of the library. Her shoes clicked on the concrete. Pools of white light were cast over the grounds.

The night was dark enough that she was starting to feel nervous as she walked. There wasn't anyone out this late at the university. As she walked, she thought of the rumours that had been around campus lately. People walking about too late, people disappearing. She chewed on her lip.

As she started for her bus stop, she noticed someone push away from a wall and start towards her. Eve felt her heart kick it up.

"You're being stupid," she muttered. As she tried to tell herself that, her phone rang. She jumped and gasped, then laughed as she dug it out of her bag. She flipped it on. "Hello?"

_"Hey sweetie! You forget we were supposed to be meeting at Kerrigan's for a drink?"_ Catherine Myles's voice was on the line.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just trying to get that stupid assignment for Professor Howard done. Besides, you can't be missing me if Charley's there," she said, laughing.

Catherine was pining for a boy in her chemistry class. She'd even descended to the point where she'd written "Catherine Katie Brewster" in her notebook. It had taken a lot of latte's to get Eve to cover that up.

_"Charley isn't here,"_ she said, and Eve could hear the longing in her voice. It made her laugh. _"He said he was busy tonight."_

"Well, you always liked the mysterious types."

_"Charley isn't that mysterious."_

"He's always going off somewhere in the city," said Eve, giggling, "even though he lives in the 'burbs with his mom. He never really talks about his life, and sometimes he turns up _exhausted_ at school, like he's always out all night, but never elaborates! I'm telling you, he must have a job as a male stripper or something."

Catherine shrieked with laugher. _"Oh, stop! Come on, though, we're waiting for you here!"_

"Alright, tell them all to keep their hair on. Love you, girl."

_"You too, Eve. See you soon."_

She hung up, smiling, and paused for a moment. From the corner of her eye she could see the person was still following. He was walking down the centre of the sidewalk, his head tilted down slightly. His long coat billowed around his legs. She swallowed. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear her.

Eve felt her mouth go dry. She started walking again, feeling her heart speed up even more.

Chewing her lip, she could see the bus stop ahead. She started to walk faster.

The steps behind her sped up.

_Do not look back, do not look back,_ she told herself.

She stepped funny and stumbled. She hissed as she rolled her ankle and fell. She hit the sidewalk hard, pain exploding in her palms, knees, and screaming in her ankle. She knew without testing it, it was probably sprained.

"Ow!"

The man knelt down next to her. She looked up. His face was kind on the surface, attractive and smooth. Behind it she could see how amused he was, like her fear entertained him. He hauled her up and gave her a light push. Eve's ankle throbbed as she stumbled, and fell again, this time into the shadow between buildings.

He advanced, his head tilted, eyes appreciative like he was viewing a piece of art.

"Keep away!" she said, pushing herself back with her palms. Dirt and concrete bit the heels of her hands.

"Oh Eve," he whispered, following in a low crouch. Cold steel touched her back. She twisted, but she was against a dumpster. He paused, his body over her, looking down. She felt so small.

He stroked her face. His eyes were so black. "Little Eve."

She tried to push away, but his hands were strong. They clamped around her shoulders. "Stop it!" she said, trying to muster a scream, but her throat was dry. "How do you know my name?"

"Little Eve. I can see everything in your mind."

She blinked, unable to believe it, unable to see. His eyes were changing. Red, blood red, seeped in around the edges. She gasped, trying to struggle away. He drew her closer, brushing a long strand of blonde hair from her face. His fingers were so cold against her cheek. She noticed a tattoo, on the web between his index finger and his thumb - like a staring eye.

Two people approached paused in the mouth of the alleyway, casting a shadow from the white light. She turned to them. "Help me!"

They didn't move or speak. Eve blinked, taking in their strange appearance. Tourists? They were dressed skimpy, like it was ninety degrees out instead of fifty. One was a girl, tallish with blonde hair, very slim, wearing a loose fitting tank top, tight shorts and boots. The other was a man, well over six feet, with gangly arms, and a shock of red hair wearing a non-descript t-shirt and board shorts. They didn't speak, or move forward to help, simply stared.

"Please, this guy is crazy!"

The woman sighed, shaking a flick of hair from her face. She looked bored, and when she spoke it was high, and very feminine. "David, hurry up. If you don't her blood will go sour."

"Ah, but smell all that adrenaline," chuckled the man holding her.

Eve struggled again, but his hands were so hard. Vicelike. "You're insane! Let me go! I'll scream!"

"You're too scared now," said David. His teeth looked very sharp. He tilted her head back. "Don't worry, little Eve. Night is here, and you won't be afraid anymore."

"Please, God, no," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as the tears started streaming down her face.

"Sorry, Eve. But God has nothing to do with this."

His cold lips brushed her throat. Eve started to struggle, thrashing, kicking, but his body was around her. _Why wasn't anyone helping? How come they were just staring?_

There was a slash of pain. She stiffened, opened her mouth, but all that came out was a long, low squeak. She could taste blood in the back of her mouth, and warmth trickled around the cold points that were his lips. Something slimy moved against her, and she realized it was his tongue, caressing. Then, after another second, when the pain seemed to increase, she heard his long gulps, soft moans of pleasure.

_He is drinking my blood._

Eve felt her mind break with the thought. His body, so much colder than the night, was a band of steel wrapped around her. He nuzzled, caressed, as he drank, and she felt the night get blurry. Everything was slipping away.

He pulled away from her with a soft kissing sound. Her head lolled. Unable to stop it, she heard a dull thud when it contacted the dumpster. She stared at him. His face was relatively clean, but for telltale smears of dark red by his lips. His tongue - still dark from what he had been tasting - slipped out, licking it away. He grinned.

"Delicious," he said.

Eve wanted to scream, but all she could manage was a moan. Blood was running down her side. She was in biology, knew that if he'd pierced her jugular she had maybe half a minute left. The idea was sort of peaceful. She didn't want to live with the memories.

"Here," the woman's voice, indifferent and beautiful, said.

Eve saw a flash of something, like glass, as it flew through the night. The man - David - caught it casually without looking at it. Eve blinked, her eyes tried to focus.

It was a glass flask. She blinked again. Inside was something red, like wine. David pulled the stopper out and took a sip of it. He grinned, his eyes vibrant, before he came in close again. Eve flinched back, but the movement was sluggish and forced.

He licked her cheek, and she winced at the cold, slimy feeling.

"Relax, pretty little Eve. You've all eternity ahead of you now. So many nights in which you will no longer be able to fear."

The glass was cool against her lip, and she felt so dry. He turned it up, and a drop passed her lips. It tasted strange, warm. Salty, and like metal. She gagged when she realized what it was, but she was too weak to stop him. The liquid filled her mouth, and she couldn't breathe. Instinct demanded she swallow, so she did, and as she took it in she felt herself changing. There was a little voice inside the back of her mind, cooing, welcoming. Her perspective of the night, of the shadows all around her changed. Suddenly they were welcoming, comfortable arms that embraced her, rocked her like a mother to a child. It was a safe haven. She swallowed again. The voice inside her grew, and her eyes rolled back, her body twisted like it wanted to stretch right out of her skin. The pain in her ankle, in her neck, was receding, and a new sort of sensation was appearing. She was thirsty, so thirsty, and dry _dry dry,_ like the Nevada desert all around, stretching for billions of miles where she could roam like the ghosts. The voice was even louder now. She swallowed one last time, and the flask was taken away, empty. She had taken it all in, and she wanted more. So much more. The taste had changed. She needed it. Oh, she needed it. The voice was roaring now, and she could feel its siren's song. She didn't need to be afraid, she only needed to obey.

The girl who was Eve Miller stood, brushed her pants off, and stretched. She glanced at the other three. David was smiling at her. The other two were nonplussed, but she could see the hint of acceptance there behind their eyes.

"The Mother will be happy to make your acquaintance," said the one with the red hair. His voice was deep and smooth. She knew his name was Michael without being told. He was one of the Family.

"You must be so thirsty," said David.

His hand closed around hers. It was still cold, but not so much. Her body was changing, and she didn't care.

"Come with us, Darling. The night is yours now."

Smiling, she followed them into eternity.


	2. Unrestrained

A/N: Mass confusion! This is not a new chapter. I decided to insert a prologue, since I decided the beginning wasn't enough of a hook. Please take a look at it, and I apologize for the confusion. I really didn't mean to mess anyone up! And another chapter should be along in the next day or so, if luck holds. Please check out the prologue. I'm really, really sorry to mess anyone up.

I suppose I should just stop saying that :) Enjoy! Love you all!

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When the elevator dinged open Peter Vincent let himself into his flat. He smiled at the jean jacket hanging on a peg by the door and liked what it meant. How long had it been since he'd been so bloody happy to just come home? Not entirely sure, he gave up on that train of thought and entered the foyer. His boots clicked across the immaculate tile floor as he walked past his rather vast, and quite handy, collection of weapons. In the living area there was a familiar and welcome sight. Sitting amongst a wide spread of books and notes was Charley Brewster, completely unaware that the room tripled in value just by his presence. Peter didn't have a nice descriptive name for him yet that fit. He was a fellow vampire slayer. Partners in crime. Neither of them acts the sidekick, although every now and again Peter likes to think it. They're both equals, and that made Peter feel good by itself. It had been too long since he'd thought of anyone like that. Charley was his saviour. The skinny git had turned him from a coward to someone who could be counted on, someone brave. Arguably, brave was just a fancy way of saying stupid, but there you had it. Charley was his best mate, and in his business you didn't have a lot of close friends, or even any real friends of any kind. And lastly, Charley was his lover, but the tabloids hadn't sniffed out that one yet and oh boy, wouldn't that be a fucking hoot when they did.

Charley didn't look up and greet him. He was bent over his chemistry text books, his mouth moving soundlessly as he memorized some passage or another. Peter watched him appreciatively. He'd started filling out since they'd begun, for lack of a better word, moon-lighting, and his hair was getting shaggy, which Peter liked. His t-shirt was just a bit tight, and that sends Peter's mind down a happy trail imagining the smooth, creamy skin beneath, begging to be flawed with a nibble. He shook his head. It wasn't the time for that. When Charley studied he was apt to be grumpy when interrupted by a lapful of amorous magician. Of course, he never stayed angry for long, but Peter didn't want to bother him so close to finals.

_Still, though,_ Peter thought to himself. _A roll in the hay would be great._

He smiled and, keeping quiet so as not to disturb Charley, he walked over to the bar and picked up a mostly empty bottle of green liquor. The amount of Midori he kept about had decreased dramatically in the last few weeks. He'd accused Charley of being too good an influence on him, but he'd come to a quiet conclusion he didn't really want to admit _just_ yet. He was happy. So much happier than he'd been with Ginger, and he'd loved her in that strange fucked up way he had. He grimaced at the thought of what a nasty, bitter person he'd been. The bottle clinked on the countertop when his hand wobbled. He tried not to let it bother him as he looked for a glass. His mindset had never been exactly healthy, but he admitted to himself he was getting better.

He poured himself a glass over a handful of ice, and took a sip. He savoured the alcohol burn on his tongue, rolling it, enjoying the sweetness of the melon. Fuck all the other liquor's out there in the world. Midori was the one for him.

His lover's voice broke into his thoughts. "Good day or bad day?" Charley asked, glancing up over his notes.

"Meh. My agent is still pissy with the fact I want to change my shtick, so to speak. I'm bored with the whole fire/vampire slaying shite. I'd like to go back to my roots, do a really terrifying show, all gritty with a teleportation bit and maybe do that crucifixion thing the gothy types like."

Charley gave him an amused look. They had an off-and-on debate about how Peter really didn't consider himself goth. He was a performance artist who found a look that worked for him and ran with it. Of course, he couldn't imagine himself wearing anything too far out of the genre, but that doesn't count. He sipped some more of his drink.

"So how is the wide world of college going?" asked Peter, drumming his fingers on the granite countertop. "How's your mum?"

"Boring, and mom's good. She wants to know why I'm always in Las Vegas, never home. Thinks I've got a girlfriend. She doesn't really believe that I'm spending all of my time here, just for an easy place to crash."

Peter grinned. They'd been sleeping together for a few weeks. Charley was rather hesitant to tell his mother that, after he and Amy had split, he'd hooked up with a man who was not only twice his age, but also a famous Las Vegas illusionist that competed with Criss Angel. She didn't really approve of Peter as a mate for her son in the first place. He imagined that if she ever found out that their relationship is a bit more carnal her head might explode.

"Hasn't put two and two together yet?" he asked as he came around the bar.

Charley shook his head. "God, no. She thinks I'm sleeping in the dorms with some girl."

He sipped some more of his drink and flopped down in the chaise lounge. He swirled his glass, listening to the ice clink. He thought about how things were going between them in the bedroom. They still hadn't gone as far as Peter wanted to. He'd been easing Charley into it, getting him ready for that kind of contact. But they'd discovered that both rather enjoyed it when Charley was in handcuffs, and Charley had even taken control once or twice as his confidence built. The memory made Peter smile.

Charley snapped one of his books shut. "So..." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Two topics to discuss."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Which are?"

"One concerns us, and one concerns our moon-lighting."

_Uh oh._ "Ok, us first."

"I'm starting to get hungry. Do want to call out for pizza?"

Peter burst out laughing. "Whatever you want, mate. Anything else?"

Charley shook his head, his face too sincere to be hiding anything. Peter loved that, that their relationship was so fucking easy. It was great, like breathing, no strings attached. "The other thing is there has been some suspicious activity at the school. A few people have been going missing, and way too many for normal transferring to night classes. Catherine-"

"Catherine?" asked Peter, perhaps a bit sharp. He lowered his glass and fought down a peculiar sensation. _Not jealousy,_ he lied to himself. He tried for casual when he spoke again."Who's she?"

"Catherine Myles," said Charley, fighting a smile off his face. "She's in my chem class with me. Her friend Eve went missing for awhile. Now she's in night classes and her personality took a complete 180."

Peter stroked his chin, and winced internally at what an ass he was. "Well, alright this might bear looking into."

Charley beamed, and it made Peter's heart thump. "Thanks."

The young man stood up and sauntered over, a familiar look in his eye. Peter felt a smile starting to cross his face. Charley slid onto his lap. Knowing it could only mean good things Peter finished his drink and set it aside. He grabbed his lover's hips and settled Charley more comfortably.

"Thought you wanted pizza?"

"Pizza can wait." He leaned in and brushed a kiss over Peter's lips. "Bedroom?"

"Oh God yes."

Charley was off of him and running across the room before he'd really finished his reply. Peter grinned and leapt up, running after him. Charley drew his T-shirt off, exposing his delicious back. He threw it at him, laughing as he disappeared through the bedroom door. Peter tossed the shirt aside, following him through the door. The sight of Charley topless made his heart thud that much harder. He tackled him onto the bed, both of them laughing. The sheets puffed up around them as they sank down together.

Charley wrapped his arms around him, his kisses eager. Peter straddled him, grabbing his hips, and pulled them into his lap. He ground into him, letting him feel how hard he was already. How much he wanted Charley all day long.

"You're wearing too much," said Charley, looking angelic and devilish at the same time with his smirk and his hair tousled all over the pillow.

Peter grinned. He knew he was a bad influence on Charley, but he couldn't care less. He sat up and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Better?"

Charley shrugged. The gentle roll of his shoulder's made Peter want to bite that delicious soft spot between his throat and his collarbone, even though Charley had put hickeys and love bites anywhere his mother might see firmly in the 'out of bounds' book. He settled for a nuzzle and a kiss instead.

"It'll do for now," said Charley. He ran his hands over his tattoos, smiling. "Mm. Maybe I should get one?"

Peter shivered at the light touches. "This one," said the magician, watching Charley's hands touching the inverted pentagram on his chest, somewhat transfixed, "isn't real."

"These are," said Charley, now stroking his neck. He sat up and started kissing his throat. He sucked lightly enough to keep it from giving him a hickey.

Peter lolled his head back and hummed with pleasure. "Regardless I don't want an inch of your perfect skin marked," he said as he wrapped his arms around Charley, pinning him to the mattress. He kissed his chest, tracing his tongue over his muscle's before giving into temptation and biting him. Charley gasped, arching against him. "I like it. All flawless and smooth."

"Not even a small one?"

Peter nipped him again. He ran his hands over his pecs, admiring the contrast between his dark nail polish and tanned skin against Charley's pale chest. "Not even a teensy, tiny tattoo. You're much too nice without."

It was a leisurely thing, kissing and touching, as they stripped each other. When the last article of clothing hit the ground he covered Charley's body, holding tight. He thrust against him, enjoying the friction, the closeness, the pleasure. Charley was already hard, needy, and he thrust back, devouring his mouth in a hot, hard kiss.

Peter reached for his bedside table. He flicked open the top drawer and after a moment of fumbling he found a tube of lube. He'd been working on Charley, easing him into the idea of full penetration. In most of Peter's other relationships, it hadn't taken this long to get to the point they were at. Peter wanted to have Charley in that final, all-encompassing way. To prove to himself that Charley was his. But Charley was also different. Peter was showing him a whole new world, and he had his trust. Wanted to keep it.

He shifted down until he was between his legs, and ran his tongue over his cock, tasting him, getting him ready. Charley was gasping, thrusting against the meagre contact. Peter kept his tastes tantalizing – he knew it was driving his lover mad, not giving him what he wanted.

He popped the lid to the lube and slicked up his fingers. He glanced up, and Charley was looking back with uncontained lust. He wanted it. Peter knew without needing his little, desperate nod. He slipped a finger inside of him, and Charley thrust back at him. He finger fucked him for awhile, watching all the different emotions on his face, cataloguing each muscle twitch, each cry. He added another, and then another, trying to elicit those sexy little sounds he loved so much. Peter started grinding into the mattress, desperate for contact.

"Charley," he said, moving up. He kissed his chest. He curled his fingers, and Charley writhed. "I want to fuck you."

Charley swallowed, his fingers gripping the sheets. His eyes were wary.

"I won't do it unless you ask."

Charley sat up and, moving down on his hand, grabbed his neck and pulled him in. He kissed him, devouring and needy. Peter felt himself go lightheaded.

"Ask," he said again, when Charley had pulled away and he could manage a breath. He caught those lovely green-gray eyes, and the need in them made him shudder.

"Please," said Charley. His voice was breathless with want, "please, fuck me."

Peter's mouth went dry. "God you beg pretty." He pulled his hand out, and Charley quaked. He took the lube and rubbed a measure over himself, shivering a little at the cool gel. He licked his lips. "It will be easier if you turn over."

Charley shook his head. "No. I want to see you."

"Alright." He was glad. He wanted to see Charley's face when he came.

Charley leaned back into the mattress, trying to relax. Peter toyed with the idea of giving him a massage first, and ditched it. Charley _was_ about as relaxed as he could be, just a little apprehensive. No massage would get rid of the 'first time' fear.

Peter put his arms under his legs and drew him over and onto his lap. He hooked one, slim leg over his shoulder, and let Charley draw the other up to his chest. He held his breath, eyes fluttering shut, as he nudged his cock against Charley's centre. He heard the headboard creek and opened his eyes to see Charley reaching over his head, gripping it, watching what Peter intently.

He pushed forward, watching Charley's abdomen, his face, as he struggled to loosen up. He eased the head of his cock inside and stopped, giving Charley time to adjust to the new feeling. Peter shook with the sensation, the primal side demanding he give in. The look on his lover's face threatened to make him come. Such a perfect expression of pleasure, and of something else like devotion, all caused by him... Peter bit his lip, trembling.

"Jesus, you're tight," said Peter, trying to ignore the words that seemed keen to be said, even if he wasn't ready for them yet.

He pulled back slightly. Charley's breaths came in sharp breaths through his clenched teeth. Peter let out a slow breath and pulled out, a little disappointed but unwilling to hurt him.

"Are you OK?" he asked, leaning down and breathing a kiss over his forehead.

"God yes, you don't have to bloody ask," said Charley, and Peter nearly laughed. Picking up his slang, was he?

"Feels good, then?" he asked, and nudged him again. It was easier that time, and the head slid in with little resistance. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. It took most of his very fragile self-control to keep from driving into him.

"Yes," said Charley, propping himself up by his elbows. "More."

He started - oh so slowly, mustn't hurt Charley - to push inside. His thrusts got longer and longer. After what seemed like hours he bottomed out, and he held himself there, admiring every gasp and twitch and drawn-out moan. Every shadow, contour, and line on his body as he twisted made his mouth go dry, his brain blank with want. Charley arched his back, looking almost feline as he adjusted to the pleasure.

_"Fuck,"_ he moaned, "Charley, I can feel your fucking pulse." He turned his head and sunk his teeth into Charley's calf. "I'm going to go faster," he said.

Charley nodded. "Do it."

Peter changed his grip, drew back, and thrust a little harder. Charley's other leg came up, both hooked over his shoulders. Bliss washed over him and he arched back, trying to hold on, to remind himself he didn't want to hurt him, but he was losing himself piece by piece. _How long has it been since this has happened to me?_ He had no answer for himself, and bucked his hips.

As they both got into it Charley proved how vocal he could be, crying out, twisting in the sheets. His voice bounced off the walls. Peter was having trouble holding onto him. He leaned, nearly bending his thin little body in half, trying to pin him to the bed.

Charley's cock was bobbing with every movement, demanding to be touched. He reached down and gripped it, started stroking him. He loved the warm, smooth skin, the weight of it in his hand. He went faster as Charley tried to push back on every thrust. Peter focused on hitting all the right spots inside of him, loving the desperate cries he made when Peter nudged his prostate in just the right way. Charley rocked back, curling. His small growls turned into one long cry as his legs tightened, his body thrashing. Peter felt Charley get impossibly tight, and he wished the end could be held off even though he knew it couldn't.

With a quick movement he unhooked Charley's legs and wrapped them around his waist where they squeezed him, the muscles coiled and tight and desperate around his hips. He bucked into him, could hear himself moaning. It was such a strange thing in itself to hear his own voice crying out, not holding back. He was so used to keeping himself locked in his little cage inside his heart that he'd forgotten - maybe never knew - what it was like to have someone in this close, under his skin.

Charley's face creased. He was making small, desperate sounds, and his flat nails clawed at his back. The pain felt good in itself, and the way Charley had turned into something almost primal and desperate made Peter's head swim. He braced himself against the headboard with one arm, and he could hear himself yelling, unable to make sense of what he was saying. That was fine, he didn't want to know anyway. His hips snapped against him, the headboard was banging against the wall, and his senses were all he had left. The look, the feel, and scent of Charley were all he wanted.

Charley came with a shout, his fingers digging into his Peter's arms, and white seed spilled across his flawless chest, marked only with Peter's bites. Peter loved the imagery, and his thrusts faltered a moment as Charley's muscles convulsed. He let him ride his orgasm out. He loved the look on Charley's face, green eyes dazed with abandon.

That was it. Peter let go of the headboard and grabbed his hips. He yelled, coming inside of him. Pleasure washed over his body like a tidal wave, his mind utterly blank. He could feel his body straining to get deeper with every pulse, could hear his voice saying Charley's name and he loved it.

His mind started to drift back. He looked down at Charley, sleepy and sated, and slumped over him him, still inside, too tired to pull out. Charley was holding him and they kissed, running their fingers through each other's damp hair.

He came back down to earth, pressing the odd kiss to the top of Charley's head. He went over what just happened in his mind, realizing he was terrified. He'd fucked before, yes, but never in a way where it had actually crossed over to 'making love.' How long had it been since he had loved, really loved, anyone? He didn't know, and it freaked him out. It made him want to get up, roll a joint and get sloshed on the balcony because there, wrapped up in Charley's arms, he was fucking scared because he didn't know what to do. Not sure he'll _ever_ know.

Like earlier, he wanted to say something. A burning confession hid behind his lips. One he couldn't say. And he was terrified that one of them will. He couldn't deal with it yet. It had only been months since he'd seen the last of Jerry, had finally felt avenged for his family, and he knew he was a long way from forgiveness for his cowardice, the thing's he had done in his fear. He hoped Charley was just as confused as he was, hoped Charley wouldn't say anything that would make him run away.

Charley's gut rumbled under his stomach. Peter chuckled. Saved by the growl. He shifted and pulled out of him. Charley's body twitched as Peter's cock left its new home.

"So, pizza?" asked Peter.

Charlie licked his lips. "Pizza, and a repeat show?"

Peter laughed. "Maybe. Food first." He got up, a little surprised at how wobbly his knees had become, and pulled his black dressing gown on after cleaning himself with a bit of Kleenex. Charley cleaned himself too, and pulled on his boxers and jeans. He left the room topless. Peter watched him go. He was hungry too, but couldn't bring himself to follow just yet. He was still scared, afraid he might get very, very drunk. He knew he would. Knew he was going to say some very stupid things, in all likely hood. He wouldn't mean any of them, it was just the way he kept people out. He prayed that, if he let himself sink to it, Charley had the sense to see through him when he was being defensive, instead of just being an arsehole.

He didn't want to put off the inevitable. He left the room to see Charley ordering the pizza, situated back amongst his books, looking happy. Glowing. He didn't look like he was going to say anything silly. Peter chewed his lip. He looked at the bar, staring at his Midori. He didn't want to wreck Charley's good mood. With a long suffering sort of sigh, he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

"No anchovies or donair sauce or anything sick and nasty like that," said Peter, flopping onto the chaise. "Just plain, good old pizza. You Americans are far to fucking fond of the weird stuff."

Charley laughed, waving at him. "Right."


	3. Indiscretion

A/N: Hello again! Hope you enjoy :)

`~+0+~`

Charley tried to stay awake in his Chem 1101 class, but he was finding it difficult. He really needed to insist on getting more sleep, but he knew he was just as guilty as Peter when it came to going to bed at a reasonable hour. The thought made him smile a little even as his eyelids drooped. Really, it wasn't his fault that galvanic cells were so boring. He had other things on his mind. Like how last night had gone with his boyfriend.

He didn't really like thinking the word, even after everything that had happened between them. It wasn't that he had anything against two guys together _(obviously)_ but he did have a strange problem connecting Peter to the term. Peter was his own entity. Several months ago, he would have predominately described him as a coward and a drunk, in that order. After the incident with Jerry was finally over and done with, it would have been drunk and a bit of a hero, albeit a rather reluctant one, and a good friend. Now his point of view had become rather skewed. Peter still drank, but he no longer fit under the "lush" category, and he was definitely a lot braver than he had been. He was also a fantastic lover, and still managed to be his best friend in the bargain.

Thinking about how good he was in bed lead Charley's mind down an interesting avenue. After the pizza (pepperoni, just because the Londoner had made such a deal of it) they'd wound up in bed again, despite Charley's pressing need for studying.

His eyes glazed a little as he remembered how good it had felt. Peter had laid down on the bed, and Charley was on top. Ever the considerate lover, gentleness broke into passion, into something primal as Charley had rode him and Peter had snapped, transforming into something crazed and desperate.

He felt a familiar rush of blood and knew what was happening under the table. He glanced up, then sat up straight as he got a good look at the clock. He had five minutes to get his erection under control. He prayed the professor wouldn't finish up early today, like he was known to do. Trying to send his thoughts down more acceptable channels he pulled his books forward and started noting, doing his best not to let his mind continue on thinking about the night before.

He was writing about redox reactions between zinc and copper when he received a gentle nudge in his side. He glanced over to see his lab partner, Catherine Myles, smiling at him crookedly.

"Since when do you take notes?" she whispered.

Charley shrugged. "Could be important."

She rolled her eyes. "You know I'm writing enough for us both."

Charley shrugged. "Looks like you're sketching."

There was a creepy sort of picture on the corner of her page that made him think of an eye and a cross at the same time. Dark, for Catherine.

She pulled the edge of her text book over the picture, smiling wanly. "It's nothing."

Catherine Myles was someone he could actually call a friend. Maybe not the way he and Ed had been before Charley had ruined that rather spectacularly, but she was a friend none-the-less. She expected nothing of him, and he nothing of her (except perhaps Chemistry notes in exchange for a _cafe latte_, but who was counting that?). She liked a lot of the same things, and didn't expect him to do a lot of talking, which was good. When most of his time was spent either hunting vampires, studying, or being with Peter (two of such categories marked firmly in the 'Classified' section) he didn't have a lot to talk about with anyone. The only people he had left to talk to about vampires was his mother, who was faking amnesia on the whole thing, Mark and Ben had gone to different parts of the country for college, and of course there was no talking to Amy. The thought made him frown.

Professor Hunter let them off with the bell. As Charley stood up he was relieved that he'd relaxed enough not to make an ass of himself. Granted, it wasn't high school anymore. People were a little more mature.

He watched as a freshman, like himself, walked by with a T-Shirt proclaiming his love for all things sausage, and for Alpha Theta Gamma.

He sighed, and shook his head. Who said hazing was dead? Or that anyone grew up? Deciding he'd have more luck as a sophomore, he collected his things and slung his book bag over his shoulder.

"Where do you want to eat?" asked Catherine as they made their way with the throng of students to the door.

Charley shrugged. "Wherever's good."

He grabbed a bagel and a coffee from the cafe in their building, and the two of them found a spot on the steps outside to eat and enjoy the sunshine. It was getting on in the year. The Nevada natives felt the chill, even when the rest of the world couldn't.

Students milled about, talking, laughing, eating lunches in their little groups. Catherine was talking about something beside him, eating her sandwich. He glanced at her. Peter had been jealous to learn he had a female friend last night. Catherine was pretty, but not outstanding. She was thin, with glasses, slightly bucked teeth and very blue eyes. Charley suspected she had a thing for him, but he hadn't let it go past the odd videogame or movie night. But he liked her, all the same. She was a good balance between what he'd had with Ed, and what he'd had with Mark, Ben and Amy.

The thought of Amy made him remember he really didn't want to think about her more than necessary. She was gone, off to NYU, to stay with her dad. They were going to try the whole distance thing, until a very questionable Facebook picture cropped up involving a kegger at a frat house and a jock. After that things had gone downhill quick, until she'd broken up with him over the phone, angry and crying like _he'd_ forced _her_ to make out with the guy.

He took a bite out of his bagel with more gusto than was needed, perhaps. He glared at the ground. He wasn't angry with how things had turned out, but he was still a little bitter.

His mom was a problem too. She didn't believe that Charley was just spending all his time studying when he stayed in Las Vegas. Charley insisted he didn't have a secret girlfriend, but she wasn't buying it. Not to mention she disliked Peter enough already. The thought of her finding out that the two of them were lovers made him a little sick to his stomach. It was one very heated argument that he wanted to avoid. Especially since said argument would likely involve flying objects.

Catherine was still talking. Charley caught a snippet, and realized she was talking about how she and some of her friends were going to Comic-Con the next year with a group theme cosplay. He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, cool."

"Everything OK?" she asked, tilting her head.

Charley shrugged. "Fine, fine."

She smiled. "Alright." Just like that, she let it drop. Charley half-wished he'd had a girl like her in high school. There was nothing cooler than talking with her about the latest comic book to come out, or the newest X-box shooter. "So yeah we decided we'd all do the Final Fantasy in the end. I'm going as Aerith, from seven. Eve-" she paused, swallowed, and moved on. "Well, we don't have a Tifa now, but we'll figure it out."

Charley looked up. "How is Eve? Have you tried... talking to her?"

Eve had disappeared a few weeks ago. A bunch of students had gone to a pub (Charley had skipped out, as he and Peter had a busy night dealing with a vampire in a deserted office building), and Eve had promised she'd be there. But after her phone call, she hadn't shown. She stopped answering her phone and texts, wasn't at home in her apartment, and her parents, who lived in Miami, hadn't heard from her either. The police also dismissed it, since she was a legal adult, and said for Catherine to return to them if she hadn't turned up in a week.

Then the other night she reappeared. Catherine received word down the grapevine that Eve had transferred to night courses, and Eve started coming to school with a new crowd. When Catherine confronted her, Eve had blown her off, viciously.

Catherine shook her head. "She came to my parent's place to try talking to me, but I didn't let her in, no matter how much she asked." Charley sighed in relief, and Catherine continued prattling on. "She was so insistent, too. Like she couldn't apologize through the door. Told me she'd make everything clear, that I should forgive her and stop being so angry." Catherine snorted in disgust. "Whatever. I figure if she's good enough to turn into a royal bitch on me, why should I go crawling back?"

Charley nodded. "Yeah. I would avoid her if I were you," he said. "I wouldn't let her anywhere near my house."

Catherine smiled. "I'm glad you see it my way. My parents will probably let her in if I don't get the door, but," she shrugged, "that's the way they are I guess."

Charley swallowed, hoping it wasn't the case. He liked Catherine, and didn't want to see her on a list of the dead. Or undead, as it were.

"So she's still crazy, then?"

She nodded. "Now she's got an enormous tattoo on her back."

Charley glanced up. "A tattoo? What does it look like?"

Catherine sighed, then pulled out her notebook. She flipped it open, and showed them the notes she'd been working on that day. She tapped the creepy eye. "That thing."

He wondered if it was some kind of clue. He took the book from her to look at it more clearly. Her attention was drawn to something in the paved courtyard in front of them, so Charley pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of it, hoping Peter would have an idea of what it meant. For all of his previous cowardice, he'd certainly tried to know a lot about the vampire subculture.

"Who's that, I wonder? He doesn't look like he's a student. Doesn't look like a professor, either," she said, looking over the steps.

Charley looked up, curious. The next second he felt his stomach drop. Wandering through the crowds of students, very tall and rather imposing, was Peter. A lot of people were turning to look at him, because he clearly didn't belong. No student was quite his age, and no professor wore a leather trench coat and boots, or looked that moody. He must have just gotten off a rehearsal, because his eyes were still dusky with make-up. Or he'd just done it himself on a whim, which happened more often than not. Looking rather at ease with the situation, Peter was scanning the crowds, completely nonplussed by the variety of looks he was getting from the student body.

"That guy looks familiar," said Catherine. "Where've I seen him before?"

"No idea."

"Is he from the Arts department?" she mused. "I mean, I don't remember anyone saying there was someone that eccentric working there, but you never know. He almost looks like that Peter Vincent guy."

Charley felt like sinking into the stone behind him. He didn't want everyone to know he was in cahoots with Peter Vincent, Criss Angel's rival. He wasn't embarrassed, it was just a conversation he didn't want to have with one person, let alone half the school.

"Are you alright?" Catherine asked."You look kind of... faint."

A group of girls, all a perfect example of femininity and in varying states of undress, approached him holding out pads of paper. Peter grinned, throwing on a smarmy look, and started signing them. The way they were looking at him it was clear they wanted something more than an autograph. Charley ground his teeth together.

"He must be famous!" said Catherine. "I mean, look!"

Charley felt his face go red as he watched Peter's admirers, and the airs his boyfriend was returning. He turned his cell phone back on.

_What the hell are you doing here?_

He thumbed the send button. Peter smiled at them all, said something that made them walk away, throwing covetous glances over their shoulder as they departed. Peter pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. He grinned at whatever was on the screen - presumably Charley's message - and started typing something back. As soon as Peter had clicked his phone off, Charley's vibrated.

He flipped it back open.

_What does it look like I'm doing?_

He sighed.

_Seriously. Why are you here? _

Peter laughed again, scanning for Charley in the wrong direction. Catherine was still watching him with eager eyes, trying to place where she knew him from. She didn't notice Charley's furious texting in direct correlation with his as she mused.

_Don't I have every right to see you during the day?_

Charley chewed his lip.

_You've never done this before._

Peter laughed, turning to look in another direction.

_Where are you?_

_In plain sight. Who were those girls?_

_Devoted fans, obviously. Where are you? Let me know, or I will start shouting._

As Charley tried to think of something to say, he received another message.

_I promise you that my performance will rival that of Marlon Brando's portrayal of Stanley in 'A Streetcar Named Desire.'_

Charley blanched as he typed back, filled with horror at the turn the conversation was taking.

_You'll be dragged off campus by security._

_Not before I yell your name, I won't._

Charley gave up. There was no way he could have Peter screaming his name in the middle of the complex, ripping open his shirt like some hopped up Southerner. He texted him with a spot to meet, and stood up. He smiled apologetically at Catherine. "I've gotta go. See you later?"

Catherine nodded, her eyes on Peter. "He's looking over here! I wonder who he's looking for?"

Charley's phone vibrated.

_Who's she?_

Sighing, Charley rammed his phone back into his pocket. Clearly, they both had issues. He ignored it a moment later when it vibrated again.

"I'll see you," he repeated.

She nodded absently.

He walked towards a parking lot. The metal tops glared in the sun as he made his way, and he had to squint. Peter was probably no more than thirty yards behind him and stalking closer on every step. Charley could see it in his mind - tracking him with that demented look in his eyes that meant he was half sloshed and very intent on something.

He turned towards one of the small office buildings amongst a small copse of trees and - ignoring the fact that Peter had almost caught up - sat down on a low fence in the shade. He sipped his coffee and looked across the car park, still ignoring him. There was almost no one around, and none of Peter's curious followers had trailed after him when he'd taken off after Charley.

Peter sat down next to him. "Well now, that wasn't very nice."

Charley shot him a look.

Peter grinned, and Charley felt himself relaxing. It really wasn't fair that all Peter had to do was smile and all was pretty much forgiven. "Alright, fine, I'm sorry."

Peter ruffled his hair. "You're so cute when you're mad." He hummed in that amused, frisky way he had that made Charley want to jump him. "Although you really put too much stock in what people think of you."

Charley ignored the jab, even though he knew it was true.

"So why are you here?"

"Curious," Peter shrugged. "My show's cancelled tonight because my double has gone and broken his damn ankle. Figured since I'm going to be out of a show until we find another guy who can pass off as me I might as well start looking into this whole 'Big Vamp on Campus' thing."

Charley smiled. "Well, you're going to be bored for a bit. I've got a lecture this afternoon I'm not going to miss."

Peter looked at him sideways. "Really?"

Charley laughed. "Really. I'd rather like to pass my finals, and Professor Hunter hinted that some of the material that was going to be covered might be on the exams."

Peter chuffed, slumping, managing to look extremely haughty and bored. "Damnit. If I'd known you weren't going to skip I'd have waited a few more hours."

"Well I appreciate the thought of you wanting to get down to business."

Peter shrugged, picking at his jacket. "I suppose I'll just have to go and harass some of the performance artists in the Arts department. There's one of those here, right?"

"Yes, but you might not want to do that. Don't need you getting arrested and all that. I don't have enough money to post bail."

"Can I join you, then?"

"Not a chance."

Charley's phone vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced at it. The first message made him snicker - Peter didn't like being ignored, obviously - and the second was from Catherine.

_The lecture is soon. Are you coming? -CM_

Charley typed back a quick reply. He looked at Peter, who was playing a game with his phone now. The sound of angry, squawking birds and snorting pigs was rather loud. He chewed his lip.

"Look, I've got another half hour between classes after this. If you tell me where you parked..." he let the offer hang.

Peter sat up straight, looking eager. The lure of exploding birds and pigs was forgotten. "Is this before or after your lecture?"

Charley thought hard before replying. "My lecture is now. I suppose I can skip English class..."

"Brilliant. I'll text you where I am. Good thing I brought Evelina today, she's got tinted windows."

Ah, the Lexus LX. Charley's favourite. Its back seat was very roomy. He squeezed Peter's arm, fully intending on keeping the contact light and platonic between them for as long as they were out in public. Peter shot him a filthy look, his brown eyes full with barely concealed lust, just before he grabbed Charley and kissed him hard. It was very risky, there in the bushes, but no one was about that they could see.

When he let him go Charley stumbled a little, somewhat punch-drunk.

"Don't be late," warned Peter.

Charley groaned. "How the hell am I supposed to concentrate _now?"_

Peter laughed, walking off into the sunshine. "Catherine can note for you. I'm sure she can do shorthand."

_"Bastard,"_ said Charley under his breath, his heart still beating a bit too fast, as he stalked off towards the right hall.

`~+0+~`

_Damnit,_ Peter was good at what he did. Charley was straddled on his lap, thrusting in time to his strokes. He leaned over and kissed him. Their tongues curled together. Peter was moaning into his mouth. Charley reached between them, ran his palm over Peter's length before he gripped him, matching his rhythm.

The car was stifling from their body heat. He ran his fingers through Peter's damp hair. Fingernails traced a light trail down Charley's spine.

"Come for me," Peter's whisper was hot against his ear. Charley shuddered. When Peter pushed him to sit on the seat he didn't resist, crying out as Peter's warm mouth enveloped him. He braced himself, hooking one arm around the headrest. He threaded his fingers through Peter's hair with his other hand, his hips moving almost of their own accord in shallow thrusts.

"God, I wish we were fucking right now," said Charley, shuddering as a wave of pleasure pulsed through him.

Peter gasped against him, causing little tremors that made Charley twitch. Peter was doing some amazing things with his tongue. He glanced down to where Peter was situated on the floor, could see him touching himself, wished he were the one doing it. The pleasure was too much. He hit the edge with a shout, bucking his hips, watching him. A second later Peter was coming, spilling his seed on his fingers.

Charley slumped, boneless, as the last tremors of his orgasm wore off. Peter shuffled, probably cleaning himself, before he drew Charley over and pulled him against his sweaty chest. Charley's eyes shut at the familiar feeling of his muscles, his arms.

His mind drifted down from the heights it had gone. Peter's arms were draped around him, loose and hot. His hand idly stroked his stomach. Charley knew they'd taken a rather big risk doing anything, even in what appeared to be a deserted parking tower. His post orgasm bliss ensured that the thought wouldn't bother him for at least another half an hour.

Sex was so easy with Peter. A lot easier than it had been with Amy. Sure, he'd liked Amy, wanted Amy, but sex had never been this effortless. Something had always been in the way. He wondered if that meant something, but didn't let himself dwell on it. It didn't make a difference.

"So... I forgot to ask. How was the lecture?" Peter's voice was low and sated.

"Good. I think."

Peter chuckled. His fingers teased Charley's navel.

"I'm sure my memory will return soon." Charley sat up, yawned, and rolled his spine. It cracked in a few places.

He checked his watch. It was almost four. If he'd been going home, he'd have had to catch the first of five busses he had to suffer through. He cleaned up with some tissues, and hunted around for his shirt. He found it under one of the seats, and grinned when he felt Peter's seeking hand feel him up.

"Cut it out. Work to do."

Peter chuffed. "Bollocks."

When they were decently dressed they stepped out into the car park. Charley glanced around, feeling a bit leery. The air outside was cool compared to the stifling heat of the Lexus. He took a deep breath. Peter followed after him, looking far too at ease with the situation. Charley supposed Peter wasn't afraid that a paparazzi was following him. All it would take was one picture to make life very hard, but Peter Vincent was an illusionist, not a rock star. Maybe they had other people to chase after.

"So, you're the brains of our little operation," said Peter, leaning against the car, as he studied the cement roof. "What first?"

Charley shrugged. "I'm not sure where to look first. If we can get into some records and see who all has transferred to nights, and what classes, we might have a good idea of who's behind it."

Peter looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "You mean like a teacher?"

Charley nodded. "Yeah, maybe a professor is doing it. Or students. We won't know for sure until we start poking around. Maybe we should talk to Catherine, get a better story. She said she saw her friend, that she had a strange sort of mark. She also works in the library, so we could get access to student records."

"A mark?" Peter looked serious now.

Charley nodded. "Like an eye-ball thing. I dunno."

He pulled out his cell phone. "Catherine should be working now."

"Oh yes, I'd love to meet this Catherine girl," said Peter.

Charley wasn't sure that this would end well. He looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye as he sent her a text message asking if they could visit her at work. Peter looked the picture of innocence. That is, if innocence had crosses tattooed on their neck and wore dark eye-make up. Either way, he didn't trust him.

Together they checked over the hardware that Peter had brought. Fir-cored steel stakes for easy penetration, crucifixes, UV flashlights, and as a back up a crucifixion nail apiece.

"These are new," said Peter. He pulled out a revolver. "Forty-five calibre, short barrel revolver. Makes a helluva bang." He clicked the cylinder open to expose the bullets within. He pulled one out and held it up for inspection. It looked like a regular bullet with a cross engraved into the casing. "Loaded with fragmenting rounds to prevent ricochets, and filled with a special vampire mixture of holy water, wolfbane, hawthorn and garlic. Can't wait to try it out."

"If we start toting these around the school we're so dead," said Charley, feeling himself go a bit green.

Peter shrugged. "I got in here fine with all my sharp bits. These are a last resort anyway." He pulled out the spike blessed by Saint Christopher. "If we can get close enough, no one has to die. Well, except for the nasty bitey thing that can't keep its fangs to itself."

Charley smiled. "I like that option." It beat the hell out of sneaking around with a handgun in his jeans. There would be an interesting court case, right before he was hauled off to some mental health ward because he believed he was killing vampires.

His phone vibrated. Charley fished it out of his jeans and flipped it open. There were two messages.

_Sure, I'd love that! Come on by - CM_

The other was somewhat disconcerting.

_Charley, are you ever going to come home? Haven't seen you for a week. At least call me so I know you're alive. Miss you, love you - Mom_

Charley snapped his phone shut, swearing under his breath.

Peter looked over, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"Catherine says great," he said, shoving his phone away.

Peter gave him a look as he snapped the hidden storage compartment shut, but didn't ask. With a flourish he closed Evelina's hatch. "So where to then?"

"Library. You can behave yourself, right?"

Peter snorted. "Don't I always?"


	4. Investigation

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Crazy work, all that jazz. Also, the fact I have waaay too many stories running at once. Things should pick up with the next chapter (I hope). :P

`~+0+~`

Peter looked around the library. He didn't miss school, or libraries. They reminded him of his childhood, and that was never something he liked to dwell on for long. University had been a bit of a drunken haze, running around with his mates and somehow scraping through his exams. Charley walked ahead of him past the shelves, and Peter caught himself watching the way his jeans hugged his arse, and he wondered if maybe Charley was making him become a bit depraved. Sure, he'd loved fucking Ginger, and all the other girls and the odd bloke he had before or since her, but he'd never been to the point where it was all he wanted, like with Charley. He considered taking him behind the shelves for a hard snog, just enough to get his lips all swollen and his breathing rough, and his nice white skin all _flushed..._

Peter felt his body heating up and shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts before he ran out of room in his jeans.

Charley turned, and Peter followed, looking over the group of wooden desks where students were clustered, pouring over books. There was a reception desk. The skinny girl Charley had been sitting with was there, scanning books. He eyed her critically. Pretty, but not dazzling. Her brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and she had a few nice features. She was wearing a shirt with the Ghostbusters logo, so Peter assumed she was a bit of a geek, which was par for the course for Charley's friends.

Charley paused by the desk and the girl looked up. A grin broke out on her face, one of those thousand-watt smiles like Charley had made her entire fucking day by just showing up. Peter recognized the smile. It was one he got every time he let himself into the flat and saw him waiting there. It answered one of the things he'd been wondering about. The girl was smitten with Charley. _His_ Charley.

"Hi!" she said, and she came around the desk. She gave him a hug, which Charley returned awkwardly, his face flushing. She still hadn't noticed Peter, who was doing his best not to death glare at her. He half felt like going over there and snogging Charley to make her back off, and wondered at what point in time he became a jealous Neanderthal. He noticed with a sort of vindictive satisfaction that the second the girl had relinquished her grip Charley had stepped away so there was almost an arm of space between them. "You never visit me at work," she said, "what's the occasion?"

By now she'd noticed Peter. Her eyes flickered over and he saw recognition there. "Hey, aren't you the guy that was on the steps earlier?" she said.

Charley was still red. He thought about baiting her along, but the truth of it was he wanted to get a bead on her. He knew it was irrational, but he was still suspicious.

"Yup, that's me," he said. He slid in next to Charley, resisting the urge to put his arm around him.

Charley watched the exchange with a bit of suspicion. "Catherine, this is Peter. Peter, this is Catherine."

Peter shook her outstretched hand, even though he generally preferred no-contact, and offered a smile he was sure came off a bit bland.

"I thought I knew you! Fright Night, yeah?" she said, letting go of his hand.

Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes. Great. Just what he wanted. "Yes," he said.

Peter was saved the inquisition when a student with bad skin approached with a book. Peter and Charley stepped aside as Catherine returned behind the desk to help them. His companion was still red around the ears.

"I'm not going to bite her," he said. "Not unless she asks." He tried out a Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle, and a corner of Charley's mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. Peter grinned at him.

"It's not that."

"Then what?"

Catherine came back a moment later, smiling apologetically. "So, would you two like some tea? We've got a kettle in the break room."

Charley nodded. "Yes please," he said to her. He turned to look back at Peter, grinning. "Do you drink tea, or is that too British?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "That's right, all Britain's drink tea and eat crumpets." Charley was laughing and walking away, but the he wasn't about to be put off mid rant. "Not to mention we all watch bloody Doctor Who, and read Harry Potter while we sip our fucking Pimms."

"Bitter?"

"I could go on."

"Don't."

The break room was small. Catherine busied herself with a white kettle while Charley sat at the table and Peter lounged against the refrigerator. She turned to look at them. There was an awkward silence as the kettle started to heat.

"So..." she said, shifting a little. "How do you know each other?"

Peter glanced at Charley. Charley looked back, and he could see the worry-face starting to set in. Bugger. That meant that one of them had to ad-lib, and when Charley had his worry-face he was no good. Peter cleared his throat, and Catherine's eyes settled on him.

"Well, has Charley ever mentioned Amy?"

Charley shot him a furious glare that Catherine either missed or ignored. Peter had a feeling if they'd been sitting next to each other at the table, his toes would have been trod on.

Catherine shook her head. "Who's she?"

"His ex," Peter continued, hoping Charley would take a hint and act casual. "Anyway, that bit is long ago. Her mother worked for me, and gave Amy tickets to one of my shows. Charley decided to sneak back stage imitating a reporter..."

Charley had flushed by now, leaving behind anger and descending into mortification.

She was grinning now, and leaning forward. "How did he do?"

"I took pity on him. Anyway, for sheer cheek, and being such a good little improviser, we've continued talking since we've got a bit in common."

"Like?" she asked.

"I have to pee." Charley bolted up, and took off for the washroom in the back of the break room, slamming the door behind him. Peter knew he would still be listening in to the conversation, unable to resist. Peter could hardly contain his glee. And Charley called him a coward?

Catherine watched, looking a little surprised. "He sure doesn't like being the centre of attention, huh?"

Peter shook his head. He could see Charley's trainers in the space under the door, and snickered. "Nope. He can be a bit of a sissy when he likes to be." _And it takes one to know one, _he reminded himself.

"So what does a magician have to talk about with a college student?"

Peter hadn't thought that far. "Oh, just stuff. If he picks a topic sometimes we can talk for hours. He's like a kid brother." A blatant lie. He hoped it would suffice. "What about you, eh? In his chemistry class. He's mentioned you. Fancy him?" he winked, trying to turn on the charm.

She blushed a bit. "A little. But I think he's already seeing someone."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She started toying with the kettle as it started to sing, and she poured boiling water into several mugs. "He's all relaxed like a guy who's got a steady girlfriend. Whoever she is, she doesn't go to the school. He stays in Las Vegas a lot. I mean, he takes the bus all the way home occasionally, but sometimes he goes into the city too. He claims he's staying at a friend's place, but he's never mentioned them by name. It's like he's hiding something." She looked up at him. "Kinda weird, yeah? Has he ever mentioned her?"

"Never mentioned a girlfriend, no." He tried not to put too much emphasis on girl.

"How long has he been broken up with this Amy?" She said her name with a bit of venom. Peter fought down a smile at that.

"Since she went away to University, I think." He knew perfectly well, but he didn't want to seem too involved with Charley's personal life. She might make an unwelcome leap. "Wanted different options ore some such."

"So what were you doing at the school?"

_Likes her fucking twenty questions, this one,_ he thought. "Bored."

He was getting tired of the idle chit-chat. After determining that she was after what he liked to think as his, he'd lost interest. He didn't do 'small talk.' Charley appeared after a few moments. Both of them were looking away from each other.

Peter shot him a look, trying to convey the thought _'well, get on with it'_ as loud as he could without saying it. Charley shuffled, and muttered a thanks as Catherine handed him a mug. She set one down on the table for Peter before turning to busy herself with her own.

Sighing, Charley set his mug down. "Listen, Cath, I need to know what classes Eve transferred to."

Catherine turned around, giving him a suspicious look. "Why?"

"It could be important," said Charley, a bit lamely.

Why was it that he could set himself on _fucking fire_ and he couldn't ask a few questions about a friend? Peter sighed, rolling his head back. This was painful. Really. He knew now that their relationship never would have gone anywhere if the storage tank had never happened.

_Although_... his eyes raked up and down Charley's body, at some point he would have ended up feeling sorry for the poor sod and thrown him a pity fuck. Or if one of their drinking nights had carried on a bit, it might've wound up in the sack. _Oh, who am I kidding? _Peter smirked a little. _Another couple weeks and I would have seduced him and fucked him senseless anyway._

Catherine's voice cut across his thoughts. It struck him just how much like Charley's mother she sounded when she was cross. "Charley, I normally drop whatever you don't want to talk about, but this has something to do with me. What do you think is going on with Eve that you're not telling me?"

Peter sighed. Time to intervene. "Things are happening here on campus - Eve isn't the only one acting peculiar. We're looking for links."

"Why? Are you fucking Scooby-Doo? What the hell do you care?"

Peter smiled. "Professional interest."

She glared at him. "Right. An illusionist has a professional interest in college students turning feral."

"You don't need to know why it's professional interest, just that it is," said Peter, injecting the same amount of hardness into his voice. "We want to know what's going on, if it's going to be a problem."

She looked at Charley. "What's going on?"

Charley sighed, rolling his head back. "Look, I can't actually _say._ You'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me," she said. "Or I won't tell you anything."

Charley shot Peter a look, and Peter shrugged. He had nothing to insert that could help. Charley sighed. "Look, she might be... in a sort of... gang."

"Gang." The word was dead, disbelieving.

"Yeah..."

"Charley," she said, "Eve wouldn't join a gang."

"I doubt it was voluntary," said Peter.

Catherine laughed. "Right. So, professional interest, yeah? You fight vampire's on stage, or at least you used to. Has she been turned or something?"

Peter didn't reply, or look away.

"You're a lunatic," she said, and looked at Charley. "I know you won't lie to me. Tell me what's going on, _please."_

Charley sighed. "It's the reason she couldn't get into your house yesterday, even though she had a key. Why she disappeared off of the face of the planet, and started only coming out at night. Why, I'm willing to bet, she'd have no reflection or wouldn't show up on video if you tried to film her right now. The reason she's gone feral, and forgotten all her friends."

"Because she belongs to a fucking _coven?"_ Charley flinched back, his eyes dropped to the ground, unable to look at her as she really got mad. "Jesus Charley, I thought you were normal. Eve was right. You are weird. I mean, really, do you two think you're vampire hunters?"

Peter sighed. Well, they'd lost that battle. Charley shifted from one foot to the other, staring at the ground. Catherine looked between the two of them like she was expecting one of them to yell "surprise!" After a moment, she was glaring at them both again.

"Get out," she said. "I've got to get back to work."

Charley stepped towards her, and she stepped back, trying to get out of reach. "Look," he said, "think I'm crazy all you like, just don't let Eve into your house. _Please."_

Catherine snorted. "Don't tell me what to do, Charley."

Peter grabbed his lover by the arm and started towards the exit. He glanced once over his shoulder. Catherine had turned her back, and had her arms around herself. Charley was looking after her with regret. Deeper into the library, Peter spun him around to look at him.

"Look, we can't convince everyone. People will think we're crazy, and I'm sorry you had to fall out with your friend. But I think she'll come around, alright?"

Charley was staring at his feet. "I fucked that up royally, didn't I?"

Peter shook his head. "I think it's more my fault than yours."

Charley looked up. "We both fucked up."

Peter glanced around him. No one could be seen amongst the shelves, so he breathed a kiss across his lips. Charley responded by cupping he back of his head and letting it go deeper a moment, sending another low burn through his stomach. "Let's move on then. We can set up somewhere on campus and see if we can spot that Eve-girl, alright? Then we can put a stop to this. And if we can cure Eve, then we can work on getting Catherine back on our side, okay?"

Charley nodded, looking a bit better. "Alright. If Eve is still in similar classes to what she used to take, I know a good spot."

`~+0+~`

They parked Evelina in a lucky spot with a fair view of the grounds. Their line of sight was between the bus stop and one of the more popular car parks with the night classes, so if Eve appeared using either one they would be able to see her. Peter was slouched in the front seat, with his feet resting on either side of the steering column looking bored and fiddling with his phone again, leaving Charley to do the watching.

Twilight was starting to fall. Charley checked his watch. Ten after six. It would be night by around six forty, and they would be at the mercy of whatever vampires were about. This was second most tense part of hunting, and Charley hated it. The worst bit was walking into a Coven during the day in some irrational hope to find them napping.

He noticed Catherine, wrapped against the cold in a hoodie, bowed with the weight of a full book bag, heading for the bus stop. Even though she couldn't see him, Charley felt himself sink a little lower in his seat, wishing he could float through the leather and become part of the chair.

There he was, blowing it again with a friend. First Ed, now her, too. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, so long as she was safe, but it wasn't helping. He had a feeling he went and lost another friend, and wondered if it would keep on like that until all he had left was Peter.

After another hour, when night had settled in, he was getting ready to tell Peter to shut his phone off because he wasn't sure he could listen to one more zombie get killed by a bomb. It was then that he noticed a group of three strange individuals climb out of an old Plymouth Neon in the parking lot and move to make their way across the street. They were all wearing shorts and summer tops, but the tallest of them was wearing a long wool trench coat.

The one in the lead looked familiar somehow. She had curly blond hair and hard cut features that made him rack his mind to figure out where he knew her from. He examined her friends. Both were very tall, over a head taller than the woman, one with curly looking dark hair, the other with very red hair.

He nudged Peter.

"Mm?" his fingers were still flying over the screen of his phone. Things were going splat or blowing up.

"Look."

Peter glanced up. After a moment he clicked off the phone and sat straight up, eyes zeroed in on the three people coming across the street. Charley was right, they did look suspicious.

"I know her," said Peter, tilting his head.

"Yeah, but from where?"

Peter drummed his fingers against his leg a moment, then snorted in amusement. "She was our first date."

Charley frowned. Peter was watching him, entertained. Charley flew through the possible encounters that 'first date' could mean, before he remembered the storage bin. He narrowed his eyes as she got closer, and he thought back to scaring them off by torching the 'incognito car' Maggie. Boy had Peter given him hell over that one. They'd had to go to the police and everything, reporting the car stolen and making sure they were off the radar.

It was her, and her friends. Peter was smiling in the seat beside him, and Charley wondered if he was thinking about that electrical moment between them in the dark, pressed up against each other, kissing.

"The snarly wench," said Peter, chuckling.

"If they're the ones that turned Eve, where is she?" Charley wondered.

"I'd say it's a coincidence and maybe there are more night crawlers about, but I doubt that," said Peter. "Strange, though. I don't think they'd have her wander off on her own."

"Too dangerous?"

"That, amongst other things. Vampire's are controlled by their Sire."

"Like a collective consciousness, right?" he asked, remembering Amy talking about Jerry's voice pounding in her head.

"Yes and no. They take commands from their sire, which usually can't be ignored. And the further they are from others in their coven, when they're young, the harder it is for them to be controlled."

"Does that mean they think more human?" By now the group of vampires had paused on the sidewalk about a hundred yards away, not speaking, not looking at each other. Despite that, Charley had the distinct impression they were communicating.

"No. More like they think they can feed more." Peter shifted, staring at them. "A lone newly made vampire is insane. It's always thirsty. All it wants to do is feed, and if it's too far from people to control it, that's just what it will do."

"How long does it take before they can control themselves?"

"Depending on how often they feed, and how much self control they have, anywhere from as low as a week to as long as a year. The Sire's blood helps too. If they are given doses of it, the Sire can exude more power over it."

"So it's possible she's out on an errand," said Charley.

"More likely at their little den, but yes."

Drumming his fingers on his leg, Charley hummed, leaning back into the seat. "But what kind of errand...?" His mind flashed through the possibilities until he landed on one that made him feel sick. He felt the color drain out of his face and his fingers tightened into fists.

"Charley, what is it?" Peter's voice came from very far away.

"Catherine," he said.


End file.
